


a thousand shades of blue

by robotsdontcry



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdontcry/pseuds/robotsdontcry
Summary: He’s so close she could reach out and touch him, yet somehow it feels as though he’s been transported a thousand miles away. An entire ocean between them, and she’s terrified of drowning.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79
Collections: Umbrella & Nailbat | Recs





	a thousand shades of blue

“I want to meet you.”

“But I’m right here.”

But his eyes are always so clouded, and Aerith can’t see what lives inside them. The fog is too thick, too persistent.

She knows he won’t reach out first, so she does. She takes his hand and clasps it between both of hers, holding on as though it’s a lifeline between them. Fireworks illuminate the planes of his face in bright flares of color, as Cloud lifts his eyes to meet hers. He waits. He doesn’t look away.

“I want to meet…you,” she repeats.

…

Aerith tries not to fall in love with him.

But when he first landed in her flower bed, he was so charmingly apologetic and awkward that she couldn’t help but feel something blooming in the space between her ribs. The few days they spent running around in Midgar were so precious she wouldn’t trade them for anything. She took him to get ice cream and showed him her favorite views of the city and laughed until her sides hurt, and Cloud huffed in exasperation but remained, always, by her side.

Somehow, even then she knew she wasn’t seeing the real Cloud. She caught occasional glimpses of the thing he was hiding from the world when he gathered himself together enough to give her a high five, spent afternoons picking flowers with her, saved her over and over again. But more often than not, Aerith sensed an insurmountable distance separating her from him, one she couldn’t hope to cross.

Since then, she’s gotten better at hearing the voices of the Planet. They keep telling her that it’s not practical to waste so much effort on this one boy, that there’s a world to save, people to protect. 

But how can she not try, when he insists on doing the same for her? When he tells her, sitting side by side surrounded by the shadows of the canyon, that he’ll be here for her? It should scare her, how much she wants to rip out the thing beating inside her chest trying to reach him, but it doesn’t.

She’s never been one to follow rules, anyway.

…

Soft green light radiates outward as she presses her palms to his stomach, casting an almost ethereal glow onto the walls of the inn. Cloud winces, and then relaxes, letting his head fall back onto the cushions.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No…” Cloud shakes his head. “No. It feels better now.”

“Good,” Aerith says, and sits up. Her head is spinning, and she stumbles as she tries to stand. Cloud catches her arm.

“You should rest.” 

The care in his voice is obvious. It feels almost dangerous, how much emotion it stirs up from somewhere deep inside her. Aerith wants to run to meet it, across fields and over mountains and rivers, to the ends of the earth and back.

It’s her turn to shake her head. “Nah, I’m fine. I’m not the one who almost killed himself taking a blow for the healer,” she teases.

She watches as Cloud’s face changes from concerned to flushed and sheepish. He rubs at the back of his neck, resolutely avoids her gaze. It’s not a bad feeling, this warmth that bubbles up in her chest and threatens to spill over the edges.

“We’re getting a drink at the bar in town,” he says at last. “Tifa says we need a break. Do you—do you want to come with?”

Aerith grins. “You know me. Always down for a drink.” 

It feels like second nature, to loop her arm around his and lean in close, knitting her side into his. Cloud sighs, but she catches the corners of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

Even as she tugs on his arm there’s something that tells her that this won’t last, that she’s swimming against the current, fighting against time and fate and something bigger than either of them can even imagine.

But hell if she’s not going to keep trying.

“Let’s go, then,” she says in a sing-song voice. And, as always, he follows.

…

The day it happens, Cloud finds her crouching by the water’s edge, admiring the flowers growing near the riverbank. He clears his throat as he approaches, as if afraid of intruding.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Aerith says. She’s never seen these flowers before in her life, but somehow the name lobelia comes easily to her lips.

He hesitates only a beat. “Yeah.”

The Cloud she knew in Midgar would have shrugged and looked the other way even though she knew, deep down, that he cared. But now he takes a seat beside her, settling on a dry patch of grass, without being prompted. Her heart aches.

“Are you nervous?” Cloud asks.

“Not really,” she lies. He looks unconvinced.

Today they set out for the Temple of the Ancients. The sun is just starting to rise, bathing the sky in muted shades of pink and orange. Aerith watches the shadows on the mountains change, shifting and growing into something unrecognizable. A soft breeze weaves through the long stalks of grass around them.

“Okay, I’m terrified,” she admits after a long pause. “The Elders never taught me about this. What if we get to the temple and I don’t know what to do?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Huh?”

Aerith turns to face him. He’s frowning.

“Of course you’ll know,” Cloud says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, to have faith in her even when she doesn’t have faith in herself. His words have a certain weight to them but somehow it makes her feel lighter, more sure-footed, than ever.

“What about you?” she asks. “Are you ready to find Sephiroth?”

“I don’t know.” Cloud shakes his head. His face looks the way it always does whenever he has something to say but isn’t sure how to say it. His eyes, she observes, are overcast.

Aerith waits, patient.

“I’ve been hearing voices,” he confesses. “They keep getting stronger, and it’s…hard to hear my own thoughts sometimes.”

He examines his hands, turning them over carefully as if studying a pair of foreign objects. They’re trembling. Aerith puts a hand on his arm, steadying, and his gaze snaps to her.

“Remember what you told me that one time?” she says lightly. “You’re here for me, right?”

Cloud nods, silent and sure.

“Well, I’m here for you. You’re not going there alone.”

“Okay,” he says.

The weight of trust in his eyes stays with her. Even at the temple, when the granite comes rushing upward and he stands somewhere above her, hands stained in her blood, face swathed in shadow. Eyes more distant than she’s ever seen them, a terrible storm raging inside.

…

“Are you okay?”

Aerith breathes. “Yeah.”

She can hear the apology on his lips before he even says it. Slumped shoulders, tired eyes, shaking hands—his whole body radiates guilt.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me back there.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I forgive you.”

But it’s not her forgiveness that’s the question. He won’t forgive himself, and she knows it’ll haunt him for weeks, months, years. Peace won’t come to him. He’ll have to fight for it, turn the whole world upside down searching for it.

“I don’t understand myself,” Cloud confesses. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Aerith listens quietly. He’s so close she could reach out and touch him, yet somehow it feels as though he’s been transported a thousand miles away. An entire ocean between them, and she’s terrified of drowning. Her hands hang uselessly by her side.

“Where are we?” he asks. “Is this a dream?”

“In the Sleeping Forest,” Aerith says. “It’s not a dream.”

Dappled light streams through the leaves above, blanketing the forest floor with alternating patches of light and shadow, where moss crawls along twisting roots and sturdy trunks. Silence envelops the forest like a shroud, as though the trees are listening. The forest itself seems to be holding its breath.

She already anticipates his next question.

“Are you real?”

“Yes.”

Her voice comes out steady and assured, as she holds herself tall and forces a smile even though she feels as brittle as glass. She might shatter at any moment now.

Cloud takes her hand. For a moment they breathe together, share the same air, the same life. The sky in his eyes is clear today.

“I’m coming for you,” he says, and it’s the last thing she hears before the darkness closes in on them both.


End file.
